


poor life choices

by TrickstersHeir



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: (nothing graphic) - Freeform, Blood and Injury, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-01
Updated: 2018-05-01
Packaged: 2019-04-30 23:09:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14507493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrickstersHeir/pseuds/TrickstersHeir
Summary: the deputy makes a lot of stupid choices, but this is probably the worst one.





	poor life choices

Henry had done a lot of stupid things in his life, but this…

Hell, this was something else. 

Leah was going for Nick’s plane. Paul was taking out Peggies with the silent skill of a man who’d seen too much shit in Chicago. Peter held down the fort, keeping an eye out from base. And Henry, willingly, voluntarily, was searching John Seed’s home. 

The first mistake was that Henry hadn’t actually expected to find John. The second was that he didn’t shoot him the moment he saw him. The third was having a flash of sorrow when he watched John fight the clutches of a nightmare on the couch.

A whiskey bottle laid on abandoned on the floor, completely empty. From how John’s hand hung off the side, it’d most likely dropped from his grip when he fell asleep. It had rolled to a stop at the coffee table and stayed there. 

Henry should’ve picked up the bottle and smashed it over John’s stupid fuckin’ head. 

Instead he gently set it on the coffee table before going to crouch beside John. He watched him for a moment, making a note of the way he tossed and turned in his sleep. He didn’t quite talk, but the sounds escaping his throat were concerning all the same. 

Silently, slowly, Henry slipped his arms under John’s fetal form and lifted him from the couch. He carried John from the living room and up the stairs to the bedroom Henry figured was his. He was careful not to wake John as he laid him on the bed. It was a little difficult to haul the blankets from under him after setting him down, but Henry managed well enough. 

Maybe he should’ve left well enough alone from there. Maybe he should’ve counted that as his good deed of the day and fucked off, but no. Nah, Henry wasn’t about to let him sleep in his jeans. So he set to work. 

John’s shoes, socks, and jeans went easily. His vest was a little trickier but ultimately came off without waking him. The shirt coming off also failed to rouse him. Damn, dude was out cold.

Hell, Henry mighta thought he was dead had he not been breathing so heavy. 

Henry shook his head and neatly folded the clothes before setting them on John’s dresser. He tucked John into bed, pulling the covers up to his shoulders and leaning in to kiss John’s forehead before slipping away. 

… He wasn’t sure why he did that, but Henry had a thing for running on his instincts. 

At least he was smart enough to not stay long. 

——

“You _what_?” Leah hissed. 

“Put him to bed like Dad used to do when we were kids. Swear on my life, he was fuckin’ out like a light.” Henry insisted. 

“Why didn’t you kill him? He was right there!”

“Why didn’t you kill Faith?” Henry countered, glancing pointedly to the young woman lounging on their couch.

“... Touché.” Leah muttered, dragging her hands down her face. “You really think you can haul him out of this alive?”

Henry nodded. “Yeah, I think I can. Jacob too, if we take a chance.”

“Jacob will come to us.” Peter interjected, stepping out of the kitchen and into the dining room. “I can feel it. And for what it’s worth, I think you made the right choice, Hen. Better no one suspect we can get in. We can milk more out of that place.” 

——

Henry didn’t think the event Leah so fondly called “Operation Mother Hen” would ever repeat itself, and yet here he was.

John was at his desk now, arms crossed and head resting against them. He snored lightly, with most of the noise muffled in his shirtsleeves. If Henry was a smarter man he would’ve left John there to wake up sore and cranky. Problem was that Henry didn’t get an elementary school courtesy award for being smart, and he found that John was always more tolerant the better he slept. 

Henry pulled John’s wheely chair back and caught his arms before they slid off the desk. He was leaning John back when his eyes shot open. Henry froze in surprise, staring at John. A minute of silence passed before they both came back to reality. Both thought for a moment that this was the end.

The feeling of something wet against his hand drew Henry from the trance. He glanced down to where his hand touched John’s chest and watched the blood pool under his fingers. “Oh, shit.” He muttered, immediately pushing John further back in the chair and ripping open his shirt to get a better look at the wound. 

“Christ on a crutch, who thought slapping a bandaid on this would help!? You need stitches, and a new wrapping.”

Henry was immediately pulling out his first aid satchel; retrieving what he needed to piece John back together before he bled out. He was on autopilot, removing the previous bandaging and setting to work disinfecting the wound. He didn’t have any local anaesthesia on him, so he offered John the next best thing; a leather belt to bite down on. 

“Sorry, my numbing is low. You’ll have to tough this one out for me, okay?” 

At least Henry worked quick. At least the leather muffled John’s screams. At least John was too fucking confused to even wondering how the hell Deputy Rook of all people had broken into his home. 

Henry finished the stitching fast. He applied a small bit of salve over the skin before winding the bandaging around John’s waist and clipping it down. “That’ll need to be changed every other day. The stitches will dissolve on their own.” Henry murmured. 

John spit out the belt, coughing. “Wha- what are you doing here, Deputy?” 

“Saving your ass, apparently.” Henry retorted. “C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up. You look like dogshit. When was the last time you ate, anyway? Are you hungry?” 

“No.” John said. 

His stomach rumbled. 

“I’ll make you something simple.” Henry insisted. ‘C’mon, before your stomach starts eating itself.”

Which is how John ended up eating a grilled cheese while the person at the very top of his shit list rifled through his pantry.

“No offense, but sort your life out, cut the cult shit out, and hire a fucking chef.” Henry said, catching a can of soup that threatened to fall on his foot. “Christ, you can afford this place and then you eat fucking boxed Mac and Cheese? No wonder you guys never brought anything good to the cookouts.” 

John chewed at his grilled cheese as Henry ranted about his pantry contents to him. If he wasn’t sure he was hallucinating right now, he would’ve had one of his knives and would’ve been going after Henry. But with a 95% chance of this being a Bliss induced hallucination, John rolled with it. Might as well enjoy it while it lasted. 

When he finished his sandwich, John brought his plate to the sink. Henry re-emerged from the pantry by then, carrying a few bags with him. 

“Ah, you’re done. Feeling any better?” Henry asked, stepping up to look over John. “Still hungry?”

John shook his head. “Tired.” He muttered. 

“I’d imagine. C’mon, let’s get you to bed before you pass out again.”

Just like last time, Henry tucked John into his queen sized bed. He skipped the forehead kiss this time in favor of smoothing back John’s hair. “Get some sleep. You can come chasing after me when you’re all healed up.” 

John caught Henry’s hand before he could leave. “Stay with me? Until fall asleep?”

Confusion and concern swelled in Henry as John pushed over to make room for him on the bed. Though he hesitated, having John’s bright blue eyes gazing up at him weakened his resolve. Henry relented and sat down beside John, letting him hold his hand. As Henry watched John try to fall back asleep, he mulled over the irony of trying to save the man who had been instructed to try and redeem him.

Finding himself stuck with nothing but John Seed and his own thoughts, Henry realized that it was gonna be a long night. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly don't know how i feel about this one lads. Wrote it mostly to get it out of my head. If I still like it in a week, I'll leave it up.


End file.
